A Way To Survive
by sparkle7311
Summary: Even in the worst of times, they were meant to be together. A/U set during the holocaust. There is a slash version of this story that was published in a zine. This is a general fiction version.
1. Chapter 1

**A WAY TO SURVIVE**

**BY SPARKLE731**

**Even in the worst of times, they were meant to be together. A/U set during the holocaust. There is a slash version of this story that was published in a zine. This is a general fiction version.**

_**Author's Note:**____**This story does take place during the holocaust, one of the darkest chapters in history. If this topic bothers you, please do not read any further. **__**Please note that any anti-Semitic views expressed in this story are not the views of the author but are those supported by historical fact. **_

David Starsky restlessly shifted from one foot to the other as he stood in line waiting to receive his evening ration of food. His legs and back hurt from standing for twelve hours working in the dirty, airless confines of the shoe factory.

He reached into the pocket of his threadbare pants where the slight wage he made in substitute bank notes was tucked safely away. This "money" had no value outside the gates of the Warsaw ghetto which had been his home for almost a year now ever since all the Jews in his village had been rounded up and deported.

Stone walls over ten feet tall and topped with barbed wire enclosed the ghetto and defined the boundaries. Heavily armed guards were strategically placed at gateways and other boundary openings to prevent anyone from leaving. This ghetto, one of the largest in Poland, housed over 400,000 souls.

Receiving his meager portion of rice and bread, David found a vacant spot in front of one of the buildings and squatted down to eat his food. He was immediately joined by Jacob, a fellow countryman who worked with him in the factory. The two men ate in silence for several minutes, too hungry to carry on even a casual conversation. When he finished, Jacob set aside his empty bowl and sighed heavily, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the wall behind him.

In a weary voice he said, "Have you heard? Malachai and Sarah both died this morning."

"At least they're in a better place," David said in a voice that was devoid of emotion. "May they rest in peace."

Death was commonplace in the ghetto. Every morning, dead bodies which included men, women, children and sometimes entire families, were stacked at the curb to be picked up and disposed of. Death played no favorites in this wretched place. The smell of it lingered in the air and clotted the nostrils of the living.

"Here. Eat." David handed his bowl to Jacob and shoved himself to his feet. "I've had enough."

With heavy steps, he made his way to a rundown building at the end of the block. Broken windows were boarded over and the steep stairway was dark, forcing David to step with care. He climbed the steps to the third floor, ignoring the sounds of crying children, bickering couples, and the soft whisper of evening prayers that surrounded him. He trudged down the long narrow hallway to the last door on the left and went inside.

The tiny two room apartment was crowed with the ten other people David was forced to share this space with. He made his way over to the corner where he slept and crouched down, trying to ignore the sound of the children crying for food, the smell of the unwashed bodies, and the loud voices of the other occupants in the room.

Sarah, a petite seventeen-year-old with freckles and a turned up nose, crawled over beside him and huddled up against him for warmth. David raised his arm and let it rest on her shoulders, pulling her closer. With winter coming on, it was always cold in the building. Blankets were in short supply, and the ones they did have were worn and threadbare.

With no family of his own, David had unofficially 'adopted' Sarah as his little sister. He looked out for her and tried to protect her as much as he could from the harsh life in the ghetto. Even though he was only three years older, life in this place had forced him to mature quickly.

In a voice that was barely above a whisper, Sarah said, "Do you think the stories are true? Are they coming to take us to the camps?"

For days David had been hearing the rumors flying throughout the ghetto that the Germans were planning to liquidate the ghettos and send the Jews to one of the work camps scattered throughout Poland.

"Does it matter?" He said, a trace of bitterness creeping into his voice. "There's nothing we can do about it if they do."

"Maybe things will be better there than they are here," Sarah's voice was hopeful as she cuddled closer, letting her head rest against his shoulder. "I'm frightened."

David felt the trembling in her slender frame, and he brushed his lips across the top of her head. "Try not to worry, little one. Keep the faith. God can't have forsaken us entirely."

"God…" Sarah said in an embittered tone that sounded much too old for her tender years. "There is no God in this place. Sometimes I wish that I had been killed with Mama and Papa…at least we'd still be together."

"God has a plan. He wouldn't let us go through this if he didn't." David knew how empty his words sounded, and he was no longer sure that he even believed them himself. He had been raised in a home where the Jewish faith was strictly followed, but he had to admit that there were times that he agreed with Sarah. There was no God in this place, only pain, misery and despair.

David was startled out of a restless slumber by the shouting of unfamiliar voices. His eyes flew open just as the door to the room slammed back against the wall and several armed guards rushed in. With more shouting and ominous gestures of their rifles, the guards forced David and the others in the room to their feet and began herding everyone into the hallway to join the other inhabitants of the building. Pushed along with the others that surrounded him, David fought to control the fear that he could feel trying to claw its way out of his throat.

"What's happening?" Sarah whimpered nervously as she moved closer to David for security. "Where are they taking us?"

"I don't know." David whispered to avoid attracting the unwanted attention of the guards. "Be quiet and just do what they say."

Sarah nodded, grabbing his arm and holding on tightly as they were forced down the stairway and outside where more armed guards were shouting in broken Polish for everyone to start marching through the gates into the streets.

The pedestrians on the sidewalks ignored the dirty, ragged mass of humanity that was being herded, like cattle, down the cobblestone street. David and the other occupants of the ghetto walked until they reached the railroad tracks just outside of town. There they found a parked train that stretched down the rails as far as the eye could see.

They were immediately separated into smaller groups and forced into the wooden railroad cars, which were then filled to capacity. Crowded so tightly that there was no room to sit, the people were forced to stand with barely enough room to breathe. Pressed against the back wall, David tried to stay calm.

Several women screamed as the doors to the boxcar were slammed shut shrouding the interior of their prison in darkness. Panic began to set in, and some of the souls closer to the doors began banging on the wood, begging to be let out, while others simply started crying or praying.

Held upright only by the bodies surrounding him, David barely noticed the sweat that poured down his face as he concentrated on pulling stale air into his lungs. Time passed slowly. Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days, and still, the train sat motionless on the tracks.

Without any warning, the train unexpectedly started to move with a sharp forward jolt. He would have fallen if there hadn't been so many other bodies crowded around him. He choked back the bile that rose in his throat as the swaying of the boxcar nauseated him. The stifling heat produced by so many bodies jammed into one space, and the terror he could hear in the groans, weeping and muffled curses that filled the air, threatened to overwhelm him as he fought to control his own mounting panic.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

As the journey continued towards their unknown location, some of the older and weaker occupants collapsed and died. The unbearable heat, the stale air, thirst and hunger, the swaying motion of the train, lulled others into a lethargic state. The mingled odor of urine, feces, vomit and unwashed bodies hung heavily in the air. With the intense heat concentrated inside the boxcar, the smell of the dead soon mingled with the other odors.

A lifetime passed before the train came to a grinding halt, jarring David back into alertness. A low murmur ran through the occupants as the door to their prison finally slid open to reveal a dozen armed guards pointing rifles into the boxcar.

"DON'T MOVE!" a heavily accented voice yelled in Polish.

When a young girl, disoriented and confused, disobeyed the order and started to climb down from the train, she was shot immediately. Her body jerked like a marionette on a string as the bullets ripped into her tiny body. Panic set in among the other prisoners and five more were ruthlessly shot before the others finally obeyed the command to stay where they were.

It was almost two hours later before they were finally allowed to disembark from the train. They were ordered to form two lines, women and children in one line with the men and teenage boys in the other line. One guard, who appeared to be in charge, barked the order for them to start walking to the east.

Blinking his eyes against the glare of the sun, David saw a large fenced in compound in the distance. They had arrived at the camp. With heavy steps, he followed the others towards his destiny.

As he got closer, David saw that the camp was surrounded by double rows of barbed wire fencing with signs posted in several languages clearly warning that the wire was electrified. As the masses of new arrivals struggled through the main gate, David saw words written in German above the gate that read _"__Arbeit Macht Frei"_ (Work Means Freedom).

As they entered the main gate, some sort of selection process appeared to be going on. Able bodied men and boys were sent off in one direction, while the elderly, the women and the children were sent off in the opposite direction. David was sent off with the men.

David held his head high as he followed the other men through the camp into a large wooden building where they were immediately stripped of any valuables they might have had on them. A bored looking guard ordered them in a gruff voice, "Take off your clothes! Now!"

Faint protests filled the air as the men looked at one another in confusion. Soldiers began moving through the crowd of men, repeating the order with threats of violence to those who didn't comply. Across the room, an elderly man who refused to comply with the order to undress was mercilessly beaten by the guards and then forcibly stripped of his clothing. Slowly, David began to remove his clothes before he attracted any unwanted attention.

Shouting and striking out at random, the guards herded the naked men outside to another building where they were lined up and made to stand on small stools while other prisoners began to shave their bodies with dull razors and scissors. David watched as his thick dark curls fell to the floor at his feet. He stared straight ahead trying to ignore the unfamiliar hands that touched his body, the unwelcome fondling as his groin was shaved clean. The whole process was deeply humiliating and some of the older men objected strenuously to having their beards shaved only to be beaten into submission for their act of rebellion.

Stripped of his body hair, David felt even more vulnerable than before. His identity was slowly being eradicated. To the Germans they were no longer men, no longer human beings. They were objects to be used at the whim of their captors.

When everyone was shaved, they were ushered into another room where each man was disinfected with a foul smelling powder that stung David's nose and made his eyes water. All the prisoners were forced to wait until everyone was finished being disinfected before being herded into another part of the building.

There were several signs on the wall, in various languages, that identified the room as a "shower". Shower heads were spaced out uniformly from the ceiling. David stood under one and bowed his head as a blast of cold water burst from the pipes. With no towel and no soap, David rinsed his body off as best he could.

After a few minutes of the icy blast, the guards yelled at them to leave the room by another door. A shivering David found himself in another large room where several tables were loaded with prison uniforms. Each man was given a long-sleeved shirt, a jacket, trousers and a cap. The clothes were ragged and torn and very few men happened to get sizes that actually fit. David had to roll up the cuffs of his extra long pants to keep from tripping while the shirt fitted snuggly across his chest and shoulders. His shoes were a pair of wooden clogs without any socks that made walking painful and awkward.

"Attention!" One of the guards yelled as an older man with gray hair and beady eyes entered the room. The insignia on his uniform identified him as a high ranking officer within the Nazi military forces.

"Quiet!" The guard in charge ordered as the men stood rigidly at attention. Instinctively, the prisoners did the same.

"I am _Obersturmfuhrer_ Kaufmann," the officer said. Motioning to his left, he said "And this is _Untersturmführer_ Brunner. You are now our prisoners. You will do what we tell you. Disobedience will not be tolerated. Anyone who does not obey an order from any of my men will be shot immediately." He glanced around the room as if daring anyone to challenge him. "You have no rights except the ones we give you. If you live or if you die is entirely up to us. You will work and you will work hard. If you do not work hard enough, you will be shot." Abruptly, he turned on his heel and left the room.

"Move!" the officer in charge, who had been identified as Brunner, ordered his prisoners in broken Polish. Another prisoner standing at his side translated the order into Yiddish. The prisoners were herded into another building where tables were set up, each manned by two prisoners and a guard. David was ordered to sit down in one of the chairs.

One of the prisoners grabbed David's left arm and held his forearm down firmly on the table. David flinched as the other prisoner began to tattoo the number 195446 into his skin. He felt the bite of the needle as the ink was injected under his skin, permanently marking him as a prisoner.

"You're a number now. Remember that if you know what's good for you," the guard told him with a smirk. He jerked his head to one side, silently ordering David to move so another prisoner could take his place. Rising to his feet, David joined the other men who had already been tattooed. None of the prisoners spoke. They didn't want to draw the wrath of the guards.

After the men were all tattooed, they were separated into groups of 100 and taken to the barracks where they were integrated with the rest of the prisoners. New arrivals were immediately recognizable. They were still in fairly healthy condition compared to the older inmates who resembled walking skeletons with their eyes sunken deep in their skull and all hope gone from their dull, flat expressions..

"Welcome to Aushwitz, boy," a helpful prisoner said with a crooked smile that showed a mouthful of rotting teeth.

"Where is everyone else? The women? The children?" David asked quietly, speaking in the same stilted whisper he had heard the other older prisoners use whenever they spoke.

"Where do you think they are?" the other prisoner said with a broken laugh. "They ain't no good to the Germans…unless they're young enough to breed. Did you see those big brick buildings in the distance? The ones with the black smoke pouring out the chimneys? Did you smell the stench? What do you think that smell is? It's the bodies burning…"

As the other man walked away, mumbling to himself, David tried to hold his fear in check. There was no doubt about it. He was in hell. The rumors had been true. This was a death camp. David made a silent vow not to give up, not to give in. He would fight to stay alive. He would survive.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

David tried to ignore the knee poking into his back as he lay there staring into the darkness. Sleep was out of the question in his new surroundings. The barracks had been built to house 400 men but, in reality, over 700 were crowded into the cramped quarters. Their beds were crudely built bunks three tiers high with three men crowded into each bunk. There were no mattresses, not even a layer of straw, between their bodies and the rough wooden planks. Simple things like pillows and warm blankets were a thing of the past.

David rested his head on his arm and closed his eyes. The stench of unwashed bodies was almost overwhelming and the smell of vomit and feces lingered in the air. Although there were chamber pots at either end of the room, the prisoners were not allowed to get up at night to use them.

"Don't worry, boy," a man lying on the bunk beside David said in a hoarse whisper "You'll get used to it soon enough."

"How can anybody get used to this?" David muttered under his breath.

"You'd be surprised at what a man can get used to when he has no choice."

"How long have you been here?" David asked in a whisper, afraid of talking too loud and attracting unwanted attention.

"A lifetime."

"Where are you from?"

"Romania. You?"

"A little town in Poland near Lublin."

"I saw you earlier when the guards were talking among themselves. You were listening. You understand German?"

"Yes."

"Do you speak any other languages?"

"Just Yiddish, Polish and German."

"Do not let anyone know that you understand German." David's new friend advised solemnly. "You don't want to do anything to stand out or to call attention to yourself."

"What about the prisoners that were interpreting for the guards?"

"They are outcasts…not to be trusted. They are the personal slaves to the guards…they do what they must to stay alive…even if it is unclean."

"You mean they lay with the guards like women?" David had heard whispers of such a practice but couldn't imagine any man actually doing such a thing.

"Some of them do. Others are more like pets that are kept on a short leash and beaten until they are vicious and will attack without any warning."

"Is it true what someone told me earlier? That the smell in the air is bodies being burned?"

"Yes. Everyday hundreds are sent to the gas chambers. Mostly women and children…or the men who are too old to work."

"All of the woman and children are killed?" David was so shocked that he almost forgot to whisper. Images of the women he had known in his lifetime drifted through his mind. Suddenly, he was glad that his mother and younger sister had died within a few months of being imprisoned at the Ghetto.

"Not all of them…some of the women are kept alive…especially if they are young and pretty. Sometimes a few of the children are kept alive to experiment on. But most of them die as soon as they arrive at the camp."

"Why do the Germans hate us so much?"

"Because they believe that they are the superior race. They believe that our race must be eliminated, our women and children killed so that we cannot breed, our men starved and worked to death in their camps, objects to be used in any way the Germans see fit." There was no bitterness in the other man's voice just a sad sort of resignation. He sighed heavily. "Get some rest. You're going to need it." He fell silent at he turned on his side with his back towards David.

David felt the cold knot in the pit of his stomach as he thought about the days ahead and what they might bring. Life or death: the choice was no longer his own. Now his fate lay in the hands of a God who seemed to have forsaken his people and abandoned them in their time of need.

It was still dark outside when the shouting of a guard ordered the prisoners from their bunks. Cold and stiff, his eyes gritty from a lack of sleep, David joined the other prisoners as they lined up in front of the long rows of bunks.

In groups of a hundred, the men were herded into one of the latrines where they were only given a few minutes to relieve themselves into one of the crudely cut holes in a long plank of wood built over a deep trench. The smell was atrocious, and David had to fight back the urge to gag. He held his breath as he hurried about his business so he could leave the building.

The sun was just coming up over the horizon when the men were gathered in the courtyard for the morning count. Even the dead had to be present for the count, supported by the other prisoners as they waited. With so many prisoners in the camp, the count took almost two hours. When it was over, the dead were piled on a wagon to be taken to one of the mass graves.

Finally, the remaining prisoners were given their meager breakfast of watery coffee without any sugar or cream and a bowl of cold rice. David took his bowl and spoon from his jacket as he waited his turn. Like the other prisoners, he kept his utensils on his person at all times, even sleeping with it at night to made sure it was lost or stolen.

David choked down the food as best he could. He knew that he needed to keep up his strength for whatever lay ahead. The prisoners were only given fifteen minutes to eat before they were herded into a line and marched outside the gates and into the barren fields surrounding the camp.

For the rest of the day, they were forced to dig rocks out of the ground and load them into a wagon to be taken back to the camp. It was hard, back breaking work, and the sun beat down relentlessly on the men. They were given a ten minute break and a slice of hard dry bread with a cup of water for their noon meal. Then it was back to work for the rest of the day. After twelve exhausting hours, the men were finally marched back to the camp where they had to gather in the courtyard again for the evening count.

They were finally given a paltry meal of watery broth with a few chucks of dried up potatoes floating in it and another cup of watered down coffee. The food and the coffee were both cold, but David was too tired and too hungry to care. After he had eaten, he was herded back to the barracks with the other men where they fell into their bunks, worn down by exhaustion and the hopelessness of their situation.

Neither David nor his bunkmates were able to sleep because one had a serious case of dysentery. His pained groans echoed in David's head as watery and unusually foul-smelling diarrhea soiled the opposite side of the bunk. It was no surprise when the poor creature was counted among the dead the next morning. The mess in the bunk was left to soak into the wood and foul the air.

Exhausted from his lack of sleep the night before, David could barely keep his eyes open. It took all of his concentration just to put one foot in front of the other as he marched back to the camp at the end of the day.

Two new bunkmates were crowded into his bed that night. One was an older man with a withered face and no teeth who couldn't speak. Another prisoner told David that the guards had cut out his tongue as punishment for not working fast enough. David's other bunkmate was a man with thinning hair and watery blue eyes. David was shoved to the edge on one side, with the younger man in the middle and the older man on the opposite side.

"You haven't been here long, have you?" the younger man whispered as they settled down for the night. "My name's Liam. What's yours?"

"David. David Starsky."

"We don't have to work in the fields tomorrow. You better sleep while you can. Tomorrow is still going to be a long day." The cocky tone seemed to be a sharp contrast to the man's emaciated condition.

"Why don't we work tomorrow?"

"Because they take one day a week to shave everyone. They can't let us start to look human again. They'll also be looking at us to make sure we're still fit to work. Stick with me and I'll show you how to survive this place."

"Does anyone really survive? Or do they just wait a little longer to die?"

"I guess that depends on if you want to live or die," Liam scoffed. "Me…I want to live just to show these bastards that they haven't got the best of me."

"What's the point? From what I've seen so far, there isn't much to live for."

"Try living for hate. It works for me."

A thin smile tugged at David's mouth at the rebellious tone in Liam's voice. "How old are you?" he asked

"Fifteen. Why? How old are you?" Liam said in a defensive tone.

David was shocked. Liam was younger then he had thought but then, this place could age a person well beyond his years. "I'm older than you," David told him in a weary voice. "So shut up and let me get some sleep."

"Okay," Liam curled up against David's back, sharing his body heat against the chill of the night. His breathing deepened as he fell asleep.

David lay there staring into the darkness. This was his life now, he accepted that. He didn't want to die, but he wasn't afraid of dying. The ghetto, and now this place, had made sure of that. It wasn't long before his eyes drifted shut as his exhausted body demanded rest.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

David choked back the bile that rose in his throat as he watched the old man being tortured in front of him. Each time the heavy whip fell across the man's shoulders and back, his body stiffened and he cried out in pain. He tried in vain to pull away but his hands were securely tied to a pole in front of him and there was no escape from his agony. David dared not look away for fear that one of the guards would notice, and he would be punished for not paying attention.

Public floggings and other forms of torture were common in this place. The punishments were another way to keep the prisoners under control and to enforce the supremacy of the Nazis. Punishments were often doled out more at the whim of the guards for their own amusement than for a violation of the rules.

The flogging continued until the old man lost consciousness, or maybe he was dead. For the old man's sake, David prayed it was death that had come to set him free from this hell that they were all living in.

Finally, the prisoners were allowed to go to their barracks. David shuffled along with the others, his head bowed and his eyes on the ground. Like the other prisoners around him, he now resembled a walking skeleton. Skin as dry as parchment paper was stretched tightly over every bone, his face was gaunt, and his dull, listless eyes were sunken deep in their sockets. The systematic abuse, near-starvation diet and bone-weary work in the fields had taken their toll on both his body and his spirit. And yet there was a part of him that refused to let go and stubbornly clung to the life he still held dear.

Abruptly, David stumbled and lost his balance, but before he could make an effort to stop his fall, he felt a hand grab his arm and hold him upright. Startled, he looked up into the clearest, iciest blue eyes he had ever seen. Eyes that belonged to a guard he had never seen.

The man was younger than most of the other guards, closer to David's own age. His fair skin and Nordic features clearly identified him as one of the "master race". Fine strands of golden blonde hair framed his face and seemed to shine in the late afternoon sun.

"Are you all right?" the guard asked in German. His voice was deep and strong, and he seemed genuinely concerned.

David nodded briefly and pulled away, falling back into step with the other prisoners. He didn't risk looking back, but he could feel the guard's eyes on his back as he shuffled along. 

The next day, as David struggled to move a large rock from the ground at his feet, he noticed the same guard standing nearby watching him closely. When a man working beside David stumbled and dropped his load of rocks, David immediately turned to help him pick them up. The watchful guard yelled at David to return to his own work assignment. When David complied without further prompting, the guard frowned slightly and continued to watch him carefully. The guard's gaze made him nervous and uneasy but David tried to ignore it.

David watched warily as the guard suddenly approached him. "You speak German, don't you?" The question was asked in fluent Polish with only a slight accent. "And don't lie to me."

"Yes," David knew that to lie meant certain punishment or death.

The guard smiled and immediately reverted to his native tongue. "How fluent are you in the language?"

"Fluent enough."

"Do you speak any other languages?"

"Polish, Yiddish and some Romanian."

The guard stepped forward and cupped David's chin in his hand, looking at his features closely. The expression in those pale blue eyes was unreadable, and his scrutiny made David uneasy.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

"How long have you been here?"

"A few months."

The guard nodded as if he had come to a decision. "You'll do nicely. When we return to the camp, you will come with me to my quarters. We need to clean you up if you are going to work for me."

"What if I don't want to work for you?" David was unable to keep the defiance out of his voice, despite the threat of punishment. He knew that he was treading on dangerous ground by talking back to the guard, but there was a part of him that no longer cared. He had never liked being told what to do, and he resented this German's arrogant attitude. It was better to die while still a man and not one of the helpless souls that made up the general population of the camp.

"You have no choice," the guard reminded him with an indulgent smile. "Or have you forgotten that I can have you killed at any time I choose like the animal you are?"

"I haven't forgotten anything," David said, his tone still defiant. "Including the fact that I am still a man despite everything you and your countrymen have done to take away my humanity."

Amazingly, the guard threw back his head and laughed heartily. "I am glad to see that your spirit hasn't been completely broken. I'm going to enjoy the challenge of seeing what I can do to remedy that." His tone turned cold and unfriendly. "Get back to work before I decide to teach you some manners."

David lowered his eyes and returned to the task at hand. His mind was a jumble of disorganized thoughts. _What did this guard want from him? Would he be punished for not admitting that he spoke German before now? Was he now another man's possession? His property? His slave?_ With no easy answers, David continued working while carefully avoiding the guard's gaze. When his day in the field ended, he joined the other men marched back to camp, and lined up for the nightly roll call.

After the roll call was over, the new guard suddenly appeared at his side and grabbed his arm.

"This one belongs to me now," he announced to the other guards as he pulled David away from the other prisoners and began walking across the compound, his longer legs forcing David to step up his pace in order to keep up.

Once they reached his private quarters, the guard locked the door securely behind them and turned to state at David. "There's a pan of water on the stand. Wash yourself. You stink."

David found the pan of cold water on a stand in the corner of the room. Sitting beside it was a towel, a washcloth, and a small bar of soap. Slowly, David began to strip off his hated uniform, letting the rags fall to the floor at his feet. He could feel the guard's eyes on him as he began to bathe himself for the first time in months. He began to feel more human as he rinsed away the accumulated grime and dirt from his captivity. Even though the water was cold, just being able to wash himself again was a luxury he had been denied for too long.

"There's a clean uniform in the wardrobe. Put it on."

David opened the tiny wardrobe and found a new striped uniform. Pinned on the left sleeve was a Star of David above a pale blue letter "H".

The guard sat down on the single bed and leaned back against the wall. "The 'H' is to let the other guards know that you belong to me. You will still be subject to their orders, but you will be turned over to me for punishment if you need it. At night you will stay here in my quarters and sleep on the floor beside my bed. During the day you will stay by my side and act as my official interpreter with the prisoners who do not speak or understand German. You will not speak unless spoken to, and you will obey all my orders without question. In return for your service to me and your obedience, you will be given better living conditions and food than the other prisoners. Displease me and you will be sent to the gas chamber. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good." He was interrupted by a light tap on the door. He shoved himself to his feet and crossed the room to open it. He spoke briefly to someone in the hallway but David could not see the person in the hall or hear their conversation. The blond stepped back into the room holding a tray of food. He carried the tray of food over to the bed and sat down, balancing it on his lap. Without a. word, he began to eat. 

David stood at attention, his stomach cramping painfully at the aroma of the food that drifted through the air but the guard seemed to be oblivious to David's discomfort.

"What's your name?" He asked around a mouthful of his supper.

"David Starsky."

"It suits you. Would you like to be called by your name again?"

"Yes."

"Very well. My name is Kendrick Hutchinson. You will call me 'Herr Hutchinson' or 'sir'. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Satisfied with the answer, Hutchinson nodded. He set the tray on the floor beside the bed and waved his hand disinterestedly. "You can eat now."

David sat down on the floor, almost overwhelmed by the sight of thick chunks of meat in a small bit of rich broth, the few bites of bread with butter, and the glass of milk that Hutchinson had left him. After months of subsisting on barely enough food to stay alive, he was unable to hide just how hungry he really was, and began to eat greedily.

"Don't eat so fast," Hutchinson warned him "Or it will come back up again and you'll have a mess to clean up. When you are finished, leave the tray and go to sleep."


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

"Time to get up."

David opened his eyes, blinking for a few seconds as he looked around at unfamiliar surroundings. Hutchinson was already dressed and had left a tray sitting on the bed. David scrambled to his feet and reached for the food. He quickly ate the warm mush with butter and drank the first real coffee he had tasted since his captivity. He felt Hutchinson's eyes on him as he ate but ignored him as he savored the food.

"Hurry up. It's time to go."

David swallowed the last of his meal and obediently followed Hutchinson out of the guards' barracks. The other prisoners were already working at their assigned jobs throughout the camp as David began his first day as an unofficial aide to the blond guard.

They walked across the camp to the stables where Hutchinson saddled up a black horse that stomped its front hoof impatiently and snorted as it tossed its head. David stood back and eyed the horse nervously; careful to stay out of range of both its hooves and teeth. Hutchinson swung himself into the saddle and motioned for David to fall in behind him as he guided the horse towards the main entrance. Hutchinson kept his horse at a slow, easy walk so that David could keep up as they headed into the fields.

David tried to ignore the hostile glances and muttered comments he heard from some of the other prisoners as they passed. He knew that he was now an outcast among his own people through no fault of his own. The derogatory comments he overheard hurt, but he tried not to let it show. He kept his head held high and his eyes focused on the back end of the big black horse.

The morning passed slowly with few demands placed on David. For the most part he simply stood quietly to one side as Hutchinson surveyed the prisoners working in the field. Around noon, Hutchinson stepped down from his mount and took a wrapped parcel out of his saddle bag. Inside the wrapping was their noon meal of two slices of thick white bread covered with jam and some crackers.

At the end of the day, they followed the prisoners back to the camp. The long hours of standing quietly in one place without much to do had left David tired and sleepy, and he struggled to keep his eyes open as the other prisoners were lined up for the evening count. He spotted Liam standing to his left, but the other man turned away from David's stare. It was a deliberate snub that hurt even more then some of the cutting comments he'd heard from the other prisoners throughout the day.

Overcome by the idea that he was almost totally alone, David lowered his own eyes, ashamed to let anyone see him fighting back tears. The thought that he couldn't say so much as a simple "hello" to anyone other than his current captor suddenly seemed to be more than he could bear. For one brief moment, he considered doing something, anything, some act of rebellion that would result in his execution. But his faith was stronger than his grief, and he quickly brushed that thought aside. Suicide was a sin, and he still treasured the life that he had been given.

After the evening count Hutchinson told him as they walked across the compound. "You did well today. I am pleased,"

"Yes, sir," David replied softly with just the right measure of respect in his tone. He had made a solemn vow to survive this place, and he would do whatever he had to do to achieve that goal. But he drew the line at sacrificing his own sense of self and integrity to do it.

A passing guard scowled at David and deliberately reached out to shove him against the cement wall. Stumbling and losing his balance, David fell to the ground landing heavily on his left shoulder. He yelped as a shockwave of pain shot through his shoulder and down the length of his arm.

The guard sneered and growled, "Stupid Jew. Watch where you're going."

Hutchinson immediately stepped between David and the guard. His ice blue eyes burned with barely controlled rage as he stared at the other man. "He did nothing. You would do well not to touch my property again or you will answer to me."

The other guard's thin lips twisted into a mocking smile, but he eyed the big blond warily. With obvious false bravado he said, "You need to teach your property his place." He spat on the ground at David's feet. "He's still a prisoner…just another Jew."

"Maybe so, but as long as he is under my control, you will not touch him again." Although Hutchinson did not raise his voice the warning was clear. Animosity among the guards was commonplace in the camp. It was every man for himself, and nobody was to be trusted.

The other guard snorted as he turned and stomped away. Hutchinson immediately turned his attention to David, gently reaching down to help him to his feet. "Let me see your arm," he ordered.

Suddenly nauseated and light-headed, David hissed in pain and shook his head. He used his right hand to support the weight of his left arm in a futile effort to stop the excruciating pain.

Hutchinson nodded. "We need to get back to my room so I can take a closer look at that." He turned and continued into the barrack leaving David to follow.

When they reached his room, Hutchinson motioned toward the bed. David hesitated momentarily before carefully lowering himself to the mattress. He sighed quietly as he relaxed into the now unaccustomed softness. He turned watchful eyes to his companion as he slowly approached the bed.

"Why did you do it?" David asked, gritting his teeth against the pain.

"Do what?" Hutchinson asked with a puzzled frown as he began to gently run his fingers over David's injured shoulder.

"Stand up for me like that." David whimpered softly as even the lightest touch hurt.

"I can't let the others damage my property, now can I?'

"Is that what I am now? Your property?'

"To the others you are. It's better that way."

"For who? For you or for me?"

"For both of us." Hutchinson said a bit impatiently. "I think your shoulder is dislocated. I'm going to have to put it back into place." He locked eyes with David: crystal blue meeting midnight blue. "It will hurt like hell."

"Just get it over with."

Hutchinson nodded and gently took David's left wrist, carefully moving his arm and shoulder so that they hung over the side of the bed. David bit down on his bottom lip to hold back a scream of pain. Taking a firm grip on David's hand, Hutchinson raised his right foot and braced it against David's side for leverage. Then he began to pull on David's arm, a slow, steady pull directly away from David's body.

Sweat beaded on the olive-toned face as a whimper of pain escaped David's lips, but then there was a distinctive feeling of relief as the shoulder popped back into place. The worst of the pain faded, leaving behind a steady throbbing ache and tenderness in that shoulder. Hutchinson carefully laid the arm so the forearm rested over David's chest. He took a clean sheet out of the closet and tore off a long strip that he used to bind the arm tightly in place against David's body.

David closed his eyes and swallowed hard, fighting the lightheadedness that threatened to overwhelm him. He opened his eyes when he heard Hutchinson rummaging in the closet. He watched as the blond poured something in a glass and then walked back over to the bed.

"Drink this. It's all I have to help ease the pain."

David struggled to an upright position and accepted the glass. He recognized the aroma of fine, aged whiskey. He took a deep breath and swallowed the contents of the glass in one long swallow. The alcohol burned down his throat to his stomach, the warmth gradually spreading throughout his body. Almost against his will, his eyes grew heavy and closed as he fell into a deep slumber.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

"You will stay here while I am gone." Hutchinson pulled on his uniform. "You should be able to go with me tomorrow. Today you can rest." He ignored David as he finished his morning routine and left the room.

The soft click of the door being locked from the outside reminded David that he was still a prisoner. He shifted his position and immediately regretted it as his injured shoulder sent spikes of pain through his torso. He forced his tense muscles to relax as he closed his eyes and rested his head against the pillow.

Hutchinson was a guard and a German, but he was the first person David had known since being taken from his home and forced into captivity that had treated him as if he were still human, still a man. He knew of other prisoners who had been singled out by one of the guards just as he had been by Hutchinson. All of them were treated just as badly as or even worse than the other prisoners.

When he felt stronger, David sat up on the edge of the bed and ate the leftovers from Hutchinson's breakfast. Feeling restless, he stood up and slowly began to walk around the room, examining various items as he tried to get a feel for his current captor.

He found a stack of letters tied with a blue ribbon that, based on the feminine writing, he assumed was from a girlfriend. He also found a framed picture of Hutchinson and an older couple that had to be his parents.

There was chess game set up on a small table in one corner of the room. It looked as if the blond guard was playing against himself. In a drawer was a binder of sheet music which implied that Hutchinson enjoyed music and probably played. There were also several documents in German including Hutchinson's birth certificate, personal identification, and military paperwork.

In the closet, in addition to several clean uniforms, were a couple of casual shirts and some faded pants. In summary, it appeared that Hutchinson was close to his parents and possibly had a current or past girlfriend, he liked music, and liked to dress more casually when not in uniform. He also enjoyed games like chess that required more concentration than the games that David was used to playing.

The day passed slowly, and David spent most of it resting or napping. Hutchinson returned at his usual time that evening. He seemed pleased to see that David was feeling better although his shoulder was till quite tender and painful.

"I missed you today." Hutchinson removed his outer tunic and poured some water in the basin. "You will accompany me tomorrow if you are feeling up to it," he added splashing water on his face.

"Why do your people hate my people so much?" David asked abruptly.

Hutchinson turned to look at him with an arched brow. "I don't hate your people. You're an inferior race. It's our job to keep the Arian race pure."

"By killing all of my people? How does that keep your race pure? Our religion says we should not marry outside our beliefs. We are no threat to you…unless it is our beliefs that are the threat,"

"It is not up to me to decide. The Fuhrer has dictated that your people are racially inferior."

"So that makes killing us right?" David knew he was treading on dangerous ground by asking questions, but he no longer cared. He was tired of living this way, and he needed to try and make sense out of this insanity.

"I am only following the Fuhrer orders. If I didn't, I would be executed."

"But, you're not like the others," David insisted. "You don't beat us because you like to or shoot us for no reason. You don't rape our women or smash babies' heads against the wall. You've treated me fairly and given me more freedom than I've ever had since I came to this place. You stood up for me when that other guard tried to hurt me."

"He did hurt you."

"Yes, but not as badly as he would have if you hadn't been there to protect me."

"I don't have the answers you seek." Hutchinson finished washing up and gave David a stern look. "Your questions are dangerous for both us. We will talk no more of such things. Is that understood?"

"Yes." David said, submissively lowering his gaze.

The next few weeks passed, and the routine of David's day returned to normal. He slowly began to notice a change in the air. A different, fiercer tension seemed to affect everyone in the camp. The other guards became more violent and unpredictable than before, and the random executions of prisoners increased in frequency. Hutchinson became distracted and often spent the evening deep in thought while David sat in silence. Something was in the air, something drastic, and David could feel it getting closer and closer every day. He just wasn't sure what it was, and the unknown future frightened him more than his captivity.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

"David! Wake up!"

The urgency in Hutchinson's voice pulled the brunet out of a deep slumber. He blinked his eyes and looked up questioningly. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"We just received word…the invasion of the Fatherland has begun. I have to get you out of here while there's still time. The other guards are rounding up Jews and gassing them as we speak."

Instantly wide awake and aware of the danger facing him, David bounced to his feet and started to reach for his clothes.

"No, not those." Hutchinson said sharply, thrusting a bundle of clothes at him. "Put these on."

Without stopping to question the order, David quickly pulled on the uniform of an SS officer.

Hutchinson slapped the hat on David's head, pulling it down to conceal the dark unruly curls that had started to grow back. "Do you know how to use this?" he asked, pulling a small gun from his jacket.

David nodded and accepted the weapon. "Yes, But – "

"What we're doing is very dangerous. If we are caught, they will kill us both on the spot. Promise me that if I get hurt or we're separated that you'll leave me behind and save yourself."

"Why are you doing? Why risk your life to help me?"

"We must hurry while it is still dark. The chaos outside will work to our advantage and cover our escape." HutchinsonutchinHurt grabbed David's arm and pulled him towards the door. He eased it open just far enough to peer into the hallway and make sure that it was safe for them to leave the room together. He then picked up a securely bound bundle from the floor, tucked it under his arm, and motioned for David to follow.

They slipped into the hall and made their way out of the building. Outside, guards were yelling orders and shoving groups of prisoners towards the large stone building near the back of the compound. In the confusion, it was simpler than Hutchinson had expected to make their way unchallenged to the front gates. Once they were outside the compound, they began to run, disappearing into the woods that bordered the camp. They ran until they were both out of breath, finally collapsing to the ground beside a small stream.

"I think we're safe for now," Hutchinson said with a smile. He began pulling the extra provisions he had brought with him out of his pockets. He had a canteen of water, some dried fruit and meat, and bullets for both guns. Untying the wrapped bundle he had been carrying under his arm, he handed David another change of clothes as well as one for himself. "We need to get out of these uniforms. We won't get far dressed like this."

"Why are you doing this?" David repeated his unanswered question from earlier as he changed into a pair of dark pants, a work shirt and a threadbare jacket. The change of clothing made him look like a local peasant. This time it was Hutchinson's hair that needed to be concealed by a cap pulled down on his head.

Hutchinson hesitated as if pondering his answer. Finally he looked at David solemnly and said, "Maybe I have decided that you are right. It isn't right to try and kill your entire race just because the Fuhrer has ordered it. Maybe your people are not that inferior to my race after all."

"Is that the only reason?" David persisted. "You could still go back. You don't have to go with me."

"I have a friend in Paris. If I can get you to him, he can get you on a boat to America. You'll be safe there."

"What about you?"

"What about me? This is my home land. I have a family back in Berlin. I can not leave as long as they are alive."

"What about the Gestapo? If they find out what you have done, they will execute you."

"They will not find out. I will tell them you escaped in all the chaos. They will believe me. My father will make sure of that. He is one of the Fuhrer's most trusted aides."

"What if I refuse to go? What if I say I want to stay here and fight for the rights of my people, to avenge the ones your race has murdered?" David could not keep the hint of bitterness from his voice.

"Then I would say that you are a fool. Come, we must go. We can't stay in one place for too long."

The two men followed the stream through the woods, carefully avoiding getting too close to any signs of civilization. They had no idea who could be trusted and who couldn't. It was safer to avoid being seen. When they stopped to rest for the evening, David found himself watching his companion and thinking about the drastic changes that had occurred in his life in the past three years. Now, he was once more facing an uncertain future with no family to speak of.

"Things could have been different," David said, breaking the silence of the night. "In another time, another life. Maybe we could have even been friends."

"Perhaps," Hutchinson said with a thin smile. "Maybe someday it is your people who will be the superior race."

"There should never be a superior race. Everyone should be equal with the same rights as everyone else."'

"Maybe someday that will happen, but I doubt if I will see such a thing in my lifetime."

"But, it's not impossible. Maybe our children will learn from our mistakes."

"Maybe their world will be free of prejudice and hatred."

"Maybe." David smiled. "And maybe they will remember us with pride and not disgrace."

"I would have been proud to call you my friend." Hutchinson said solemnly

"And I you."

They both fell into silence as they settled down to sleep for the night.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

The next morning was dark and overcast with a chill in the air. The two men broke camp and began trudging through the woods to the north. It felt strange to be outside of the confinement of the camp. David had been a prisoner for so long, in one way or another, that the simple act of being able to walk through the woods was a bit unnerving. He kept throwing glances back over his shoulder, afraid of unseen stalkers lurking in the foliage.

"Don't worry," Hutchinson reassured him "We're safe for now. It could be days before anyone even notices that we're missing."

"Does this mean the war is over?"

"Yes…the allied troops will overtake the camps and free your people…and when they see the atrocities that my people have committed, none of us will be able to live in peace."

"And then what?"

"My people will have to learn to live with the shame of what we have done..." Hutchinson seemed lost in his own thoughts for a moment. "Perhaps this is a lesson for all mankind….a warning not to let any man have absolute power over a nation."

"Power can corrupt even the wisest of men unless there is someone to hold them accountable for their actions."

"Unfortunately, in this case, I'm afraid that all of us will be held accountable, and what has happened here will forever be a black mark on our history."

The two men fell silent as they continued to walk, keeping up a steady pace. There was no need to hurry, for the time being they were safe. Occasionally, Starsky would hear the bleat of a goat or the mooing of a cow from the nearby fields. Once he heard the sound of a farmer tending his flock, but they passed by unseen.

Distracted by the sight of a deer feeding nearby, Starsky didn't notice that Hutchinson had stopped walking until he bumped into him.

"Shhhhh…." Hutchinson hissed as he grabbed Starsky's arm and pulled him down into a crouch. Instinctively, Starsky obeyed. Through the underbrush Starsky could see two German soldiers up ahead of them. The soldiers were drinking and smoking, not paying any attention to their surroundings.

Taking refuge behind the tangled briars and overgrown brush, Hutchinson and Starsky listened in on their conversation.

"The Yankee Pigs were storming the gates while we were shooting all the prisoners we could…I was damn lucky to get out of there without getting caught." One of the men was saying in a hushed voice, slurred slightly by the alcohol.

"I ran for cover as soon as I heard the troops were invading the camps. We'd already gassed all of our prisoners."

The first soldier lowered his voice to a loud whisper, his words shaking with emotion, "I heard that the Fuhrer is dead…that he killed himself…to keep from being captured by the Red Army when they surrounded Berlin."

"The Fuhrer is dead?" the other man said in shocked voice.

"Yes, and the homeland is falling even as we speak."

Starsky and Hutchinson exchanged a startled glance at hearing this unexpected bit of news. If Hitler really was dead, then the war was truly over. But, that didn't mean that there weren't still radicals combing the country side looking to avenge his death.

The two soldiers finished the bottle they had been sharing and moved along. Hutchinson and Starsky remained well hidden until they were out of sight. Finally, Starsky broke the silence.

"What does all this mean?"

"It means the quicker we get you out of here the better," Hutchinson said gruffly as he straightened up and gestured for Starsky to do the same. "It's also going to be more dangerous. Paris will be crowded with soldiers and defectors alike."

"Will your friend still be able to help us?"

"Yes. Don't worry about that. Peter has some powerful connections and friends in high places. He'll be able to get the necessary paperwork to get you out of the country."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me. I have some connections of my own."

The two men continued their journey, stopping briefly by a stream to fill their canteen and eat a simple meal. By nightfall, they had reached the boundary of the woods and found themselves in the open countryside. They made camp at the edge of the woods and fell into a light slumber soothed by the now familiar sounds of the night.

The next morning, they began following the rutted dirt road that cut through the countryside. The few huts that they passed appeared to be empty, vacated long ago by their occupants. Burned out fields and the remains of modest homes spoke silently of the ravages of war upon the land. In time, the people could rebuild, but nothing would ever be the same again. Innocence lost could never be reclaimed.

Late that afternoon, they came across their first sight of civilization: a modest hut with a vegetable garden to one side and three goats grazing nearby. An elderly man with a bent back, a weatherworn face, and dark hair streaked with gray sat on the porch smoking a pipe. He nodded at Starsky and Hutchinson and said in a friendly voice, "Welcome. Not many strangers come this way these days. Where are you headed?"

"North," Hutchinson said without naming a specific destination.

"It'll be dark soon. You don't want to be caught on the road at night…too many vagrants out looking for trouble. You're welcome to spend the night if you don't mind sleeping in the barn with the animals."

"Not all," Hutchinson said with a smile. "We appreciate your hospitality."

"Not much to be hospitable about these days. But, the missus and I will surely enjoy the company." He rose to his feet and yelled through the open doorway "Elke…we have guests for supper."

A short, heavyset woman with bright blue eyes and blonde hair worn in a neat braid appeared in the doorway. She smiled broadly at the sight of the two men. "Come in, come in." she said pleasantly. "You must be tired. Have you traveled far?"

"A ways," Hutchinson said, again without being too specific. "My name is Hans and this is my friend, Jakob."

"I am Claus and this is my wife, Elke." The farmer introduced himself and his wife. "Come in while Elke finishes our meal."

The interior of the hut was small and the furnishings were modest but well cared for. The three men sat at the long wooden table with a bench on either side and drank some dark, rich coffee while Elke prepared the extra food for their unexpected guests.

"Have you two heard any news of the war?" Claus asked.

His question seemed innocent enough; still Hutchinson chose his words with care before answering.

"We heard it is near an end. Allied troops are closing in."

"Yes," Claus agreed with a nod and a long draw on his pipe. "I have heard the same."

"Please," Elke said mildly as she sat a loaf of freshly baked bread on the table. "Let us not talk of such things as war. We should just be grateful for our blessings…and pray for those who are being oppressed."

"You're right my dear." Claus smiled fondly and patted his wife's arm. "We won't talk of such matters. I'm sure our guests are tired from their journey and would like to rest after we eat."

Elke placed the rest of the meal on the table and they all bowed their heads as she said a blessing over their food. Hutchinson and Starsky ate the home cooked meal and enjoyed the company of their hosts. When they had finished, they excused themselves and went out to the barn to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

Late the next afternoon, they caught a ride with a farmer who was going across the border into France. They both were able to breath easier as they left the borders of Germany behind them. They still had at least a day of steady walking before they would reach Paris. To pass the time, they began to share more about themselves.

"Peter and I went to school together when we were boys. While I followed my father into the military, Peter went to the University and became a teacher. He moved to Paris several years ago, and we fell out of touch as old friends sometimes do."

"Are you sure he will help us?"

"Yes. Peter never did agree with the politics of our country. He openly opposed the Fuhrer as the chancellor of Germany and moved to France when he became dictator."

"It's too bad there weren't more of your people with his convictions," A trace of resentment lingered in David's voice. "Then maybe my people would not have suffered such a fate at the hands of your Fuhrer."

"I cannot apologize for the actions of my race. Most people were not aware of what all went on in the camps."

'Would it have made a difference if they had?"

"I like to think that it would have. No one person should have complete power over another person or a nation. Hopefully, we will be able to learn from our mistakes and not repeat them."

"Hopefully history will not allow them to be repeated especially at the expense of another race."

"I can not blame you for being bitter. I could not blame you if you hated me for everything I stand for."

"You've been good to me…better than most of the guards at the camp. And you risked your life to save mine. You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did. Maybe in some small way it will help me atone for my sins."

"What do you think America is like?" David tactfully changed the subject to a lighter topic.

"I do not know but, I have heard it is a wonderful place full of opportunities. A place to make a new start, to have a new life."

"Do you really think that is possible?"

"I believe that anything is possible if you want it bad enough." The former guard sighed deeply and continued with his thoughts "I thought what we were doing was for the good of mankind. None of it was real until I went to the camps. So much pain, so much suffering. Innocent women and children murdered because of their race…babies torn from their mother's arms and killed in front of them." His eyes darkened with an inner turmoil that he could not hide. "I hated the things I saw around me, the things I was expected to do…but as a solider, I had no choice but to obey."

"What made you change your mind?"

"Getting to know you…watching you hold your head up even under the worst of times. Hearing you talk about your home…your family. I began to see that you and I were the same in many ways. That it was only the chance of our birth that made us different."

"But, even from the beginning you weren't like the other guards. You treated me as a person not an object to be hated and beaten at whim."

"But, my hands are still unclean…I helped to kill hundreds of your people without a second thought."

"Did it bother you to kill them?"

"Yes, but to tell anyone that would have been treason."

"So, you are not like the rest. You never have been." His words settled that matter for both men.

The two men fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts as they continued walking along the road. Darkness had fallen when they finally reached the outskirts of Paris. Unnerved by the noise and the crowds of people on the streets, even at that hour of the night, David stayed close to his companion as they walked down the cobblestone street. After so many hours of walking, he was tired and sleepy. All he wanted was a place to lay his head for the night.

Hutchinson led the way to a residential street lined with stately brick homes with spacious yards and wrought iron fences. He stopped at one of the homes and knocked on the door. It was answered almost immediately by a man approximately Hutchinson's age with sandy brown hair, piercing brown eyes and a thick mustache. He did not seem surprised to find Hutchinson and a stranger standing on his stoop.

"Kendrick, welcome," he said graciously, stepping aside to let them into the house. "It is good to see you again after so many years."

"It's good to see you too, my friend," Hutchinson said with a genuine smile. He turned to David. "This is my friend, David. David, this is my friend, Peter Weiss." He turned his attention back to his old friend. "I was hoping you could help David get onto a ship to America."

If Peter Weiss was surprised by the request, he didn't show it. "I think that can be arranged. It will take a few days, but you are welcome to stay here as my guests in the meantime." A second man, obviously a servant from his demeanor and dress, suddenly appeared at his side. "William, will you please show David to a room while Kendrick and I catch up?"

"Yes, sir." The man said as he motioned for David to follow him. As they walked away, Hutchinson and Weiss went into the library and closed the door.

"You took a grave risk by bringing him here. I won't bother telling you how foolish you were," Weiss scolded him. "The city is full of both militia and deserters. The Nazi regime has fallen and anyone who worked in the camps is being considered a war criminal."

"I had to do something. I couldn't let them kill him."

"Why not? What made him different from all the others?"

"Maybe it's because I got to know him…as a person…not just something I had been taught was inferior and less than human."

"That's a dangerous thing to do…especially in times like these. You could be executed for treason if anyone ever finds out the truth."

"They're not going to find out. What's done is done. I have no regrets. I stand by my choices.'

"You always were the noble one, my friend. I tried to warn you. I told you that it wasn't right to single out any one group of people for death simply because you didn't agree with their beliefs or because they were different from us. There was never meant to be a 'master race'." Peter said solemnly. He had been friends with Kendrick since childhood. He was familiar with his friend's little quirks and personality traits. He had always known that Kendrick's personal beliefs would not sit well with the Nazi regime.

"You can't imagine what it was like in the camps." Kendrick said in a tired voice. "So many people killed each day, men, women, children…thousands of them. Dead by our hand. Shot or killed in the gas chamber. Children, babies, torn out of their mother's arms and killed like a stray animal…then thrown away like they were nothing more than trash." His voice caught. "The smell of burning flesh was always in the air…it clung to your clothes and got in your nostrils until you never got rid of the stench. Maybe saving this one Jew was my way of trying to atone for my sins in some small way."

"Did it work?"

"No…not really," Kendrick admitted with a sad smile. "God will never forgive me for the terrible sins I have committed against my fellow man. When the time comes how will I be judged for what I have done?"

"You should go with him to America. There's nothing left here for you now. The allied forces have taken control of the camps. They are already talking about trying anyone associated with the Nazi party for war crimes."

"Me…a war criminal. Wouldn't my father be proud?" Hutchison smiled faintly, a smile that never reached his eyes.

"The same thing could happen to your father. You know he's already taken your mother and left Berlin for Austria."

"No, I didn't know. Leave it to dear old dad to cover his own ass at a time like this. Maybe I will go to America after all."

"I would if I were you. What have you got to lose?"

"It's late. I think I'll turn in, too."

"Think about what I said, my friend."

"I will. I promise." Hutchinson told him


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

It was still early when David opened his eyes, his full bladder demanding immediate attention. Reluctantly he pulled himself from the comfort of the bed that he had slept in. He walked into the adjoining bathroom and turned on the light. Having an inside water closet was a luxury that David had never expected to see in his lifetime. It was just another glaring difference between his world and the one where Hutchinson lived.

After relieving himself at the commode, he walked over to the mirror hanging above the sink nd gazed at his reflection in the glass. He had put on a few pounds, so his face no longer had such a gaunt, haggard look but his ribs could still be plainly seen. His eyes were wary and guarded, haunted by the terrible things that he had witnessed in his lifetime. He looked at the hated tattoo on his left forearm, the brand that he would carry with him for the rest of his life as a constant reminder of the things he had lost and the atrocities he had seen. His family was gone, and as far as he knew, he was the last in his bloodline.

He quickly washed his face and hands and went back into the bedroom. He found a clean shirt and pair of pants lying on a chair in the corner. His other clothes were gone, so he assumed the fresh clothing was for him. He dressed and quietly left the room.

His rumbling stomach led him to the wel-stocked kitchen. Not wanting to disturb his host or the other occupants of the house, he poured himself a tall glass of milk and helped himself to a chunk of cheese he found in the refrigerator. It was enough to satisfy his hunger for the moment. He sat down at the table to enjoy his morning meal.

He was startled by Peter Weiss' sudden appearance in the doorway. A warm smile eased his fright and David offered a small smile in return.

"Help yourself to whatever you would like. There's plenty."

"I want to thank you for your help."

"It's the right thing to do…for you and for Kendrick. He needs to go with you to America. There is nothing left for him here."

"What will we find in America?"

"A chance at a new life."

"Why should I get a second chance when so many of my countrymen have been killed? My entire family is gone. I'm alone now."

"It is not for us to question why something has happened. All we can do is accept the past and move on. None of us knows what the future may hold. Tell Kendrick I will be gone most the day, but I will be back this evening. In meantime, you need to rest after your journey."

Peter went out the back door leaving David alone with his own thoughts. Had he been saved for a purpose? If so, he wondered what that was. He was still sitting there lost in thought when Hutchinson came into the room.

"You're up early." He commented as he began making a pot of coffee. "Are you hungry? I'm making some pancakes if you want one."

"Thanks, that would be good," David said graciously. "Your friend went out. He said to tell you he'd be back tonight."

Hutchinson nodded. "He's making the arrangements for your trip to America."

"He thinks you should go too."

"I know he does, and I'm considering it but, I still have a life here I need to think about."

"What kind of life? Hiding your shame? Being judged for the things you have done in the name of duty? Being called a criminal or worse?"

Hutchinson shrugged his shoulders and remained silent. David's words had the ring of truth. Life as he knew it was changed forever and nothing would ever be the same. How could one Jew out of thousands have had such a profound impact on his life? He had done things he had never imagined himself as being capable of. And yet, despite the terrible things he had done, a spark of humanity had remained. He had sinned but, maybe with David's help, he could find a way to forgive himself.

He finished making their meal in silence, passing David a plate stacked with pancakes along with a freshly brewed cup of coffee. The two men ate their meal at their leisure, making casual conversation as the morning sun filled the kitchen with light. After they had finished, each went their separate ways for the remainder of the morning.

David spent his time in the small courtyard behind the house. It was quiet and peaceful with thick foliage and splashes of color from a variety of flowers. The sun felt good on his skin, relaxing him and washing away his immediate concerns.

Peter returned in the late afternoon and joined David and Hutchinson for the evening meal that Joshua had prepared. Fresh baked bread, hot coffee, and a thick stew with chucks of meat and vegetables in a rich broth.

"So," Peter addressed his old friend as they were finishing their meal. "Have you decided to go with David?"

"Yes." Hutchinson said quietly. "You were right. There is nothing left for me here."

"Good," Peter was pleased with his old friend's choice. "I expected as much. That's why I made arrangements for two."

Hutchinson chuckled. "And what would you have done if I had decided not to go?"

"I had faith that you would make the right decision." Peter smiled. "The ship sails for America tomorrow morning. I will have William pack a truck of clothes for both of you and give you enough money to take with you so you'll be able to make a stake when you get to America."

"That's too much to ask. I can't let you do that." Hutchinson objected

"Nonsense. It's already been done." Peter told him with a dismissive wave. "This is probably the last time we will see each other, so indulge me my friend."

"You're too kind. But, I will pay you back once we get settled in America."

"And I will help." David said with a small smile at his two new friends. "You have both given me my life back and I can never thank you enough for that."

"We'd better turn in early." Hutchinson suggested "Tomorrow will be a long day."


	11. Chapter 11

**EPILOGUE**

Two days later, the two friends found themselves on a boat headed for America. They were registered as Hans Anderson and David Stein. They blended in with the other passengers heading for a new beginning in a new world. As they watched the city recede into the horizon, David looked at Hutchinson and said, "Are you sorry?'

"About what?"

"About leaving everything behind. Your family, your way of life. Your country."

"None of that matters to me anymore. My parents and I have never been close and I have no wife or children to hold me here. America offers both of us a new life…a new beginning. A place where nobody knows about our past. We can become different people. We can start over."

"Do you really think it is possible to start over after all we've seen and been through?"

"Maybe not, but at least we have the chance to try."

Without any conscious thought, David rubbed the tattoo on his forearm, hidden by his shirt sleeve. Unlike his new friend, he would forever bear the mark of his captivity, the total destruction of his family, and a mad man's attempt to alienate an entire race of people.

"A new start. A new life. God's will be done."

"How can you still believe in a God after what has happened to you?" Hutch questioned his friend. Starsky's simple faith sometimes confused the young German.

"God does not forsake us…it is not up to us to question why God allows something to happen. We must have faith that God is testing us for a reason. I did not die like so many of my people because of you. It was God's will that brought us together and lead us to this place."

"I wish I had your faith."

"Each man must find his own faith, in his own way. You will find yours in time."

A comfortable silence fell between them as they looked out over the ocean, each lost in his own thoughts as they headed for a new life and a new future. They were now bound forever by a shared past that had changed them both. They would face whatever lay in store for them, and they would face it side by side. Together.

THE END


End file.
